Lonzo: Book 1 (Tycoon Series Book 1) (6 page)

She was exhausted. While she managed to snatch several hours of sleep in flight, she was still jet-lagged. Her whole body ached. Even her skin felt tight from fatigue.

She took the private lift to her assigned floor. She was almost asleep on her feet as she swiped the electronic key card of the room.

After a quick shower, she hit the sack and was sleeping soundly when her phone rang just before midnight. It was Francesca. Jordana was tempted not to take the call but changed her mind.

“Sugar, you’re still up?” the other woman asked.

Jordana grunted an unintelligible reply.

“Listen, Albert Mulroney of Calvin Klein called. It’s kind of urgent. They are launching
Aurora
next month. Oh, it’s their new signature fragrance for women. FYI.”

“What’s it got to do with me, Francesca?” she asked grumpily. She was dead-tired and in tremendous need of a good night sleep.

Francesca appeared or pretended not to notice her crabbiness.

Her booker knew she can be grouchy when sleep-deprived.

“Apparently, the original model they have in mind is…
naturament
…Lara Stone, but she’s pregnant, you know how it goes…so they decided to drop her from this campaign. They thought about you and wanted to know ASAP if you’re willing to get in and fill her fey shoes.”

Calvin Klein was one of the first companies who had signed her for a major campaign. Francesca knew that. Her booker was indeed a very wily woman.

“Okay, okay. Where’s the photo shoot?”

“Great! Oh, it will be shot on location…in Anchorage, Alaska.”

“Whaat?! But Francesca…I already told you that I’m leaving for Italy this weekend!” she protested. Alaska? Why can’t it be anywhere nearer? Like Montana?

“Kirk Larsen is the photographer and he wanted real northern lights for his pictures. You know what a nature nut he is. Besides, the photo shoot will finish a day early. You can still attend that weekend wedding, provided you jump on the plane first thing tomorrow.”

She groaned. “First flight out?”

“Sorry, honey. I tried to arrange for a later flight but Kirk wants your gorgeous ass as soon as possible.”

“Ugh.”

“So, will you do it?”

Jordana took a deep breath.

“Yeah…okay, I’ll be there. Now get off the line and let me get some sleep!”

Francesca chuckled before finishing the call.

Jordana left on the first flight for Alaska the following morning.
At least she was flying first class, a far cry from the economy seats she used to be in when she was just starting to model. The first class seats, limo service, luxury hotels were just reserved for the top models like Heidi, Giselle, Adrianna and the like. She’d never actually thought of becoming equally famous like them.

At first, modeling was just a means to save money so she could send herself to school. Just like Leandro did. When she began to earn enough, she hired a tutor for her and Leandro so that they can both finish high school via correspondence. She valued education and always got excellent grades. When she took her exams, she got really high SATs, high enough to qualify her at Ivy League institutions like Browne or Columbia. She wanted to become a doctor and set up a medical practice in her native Brazil, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to afford it if she stopped working then.

She wanted that dream so bad and she was willing to work hard to get it.

So she went to every cattle call.

At first, booking agents thought of her as unbookable—she was too exotic, her breast size was too big, she can’t do runway because she can’t walk properly. She heard them all. Within earshot.

But she didn't let the constant rejection get in the way. She persisted and eventually, it paid off. At first she got regular catalog work, which enabled her to pay the bills.

She never turned down assignments, unless it required her to go completely nude. That was something she couldn’t do. Not even for PETA. It did cause several clients to drop her for not going all the way. But she had the drive and the impeccable work ethic: she showed up on time, never complained, never gave people around her a bad time. Envious fellow models had bitched that she was a major suck-up. She didn’t give them any mind. For her, it was all in a day’s work. A step closer into making her dream a reality.

Slowly, her modeling portfolio began to grow. Her model book began to thicken with “tears”— pictures of her from actual magazine pages. Casting agents and other photographers began to recommend and drop her name to big-name clients.

She decided to postpone her university plans when the modeling stint really took off. By then it had developed into a career.

Photographers remarked she was a natural and that the camera loved her. That she didn’t hold anything back. She had “it”— that extra factor which separated her from the bevy of models. Honestly, she never thought of herself as good-looking growing up. Over the years, she had grown comfortable with her looks but her perception of herself remained the same.

She was lucky to have good bone structure and features that stood out but that didn’t mean she was better than everyone else or really special. She wasn’t buying into all that hype about her. Maybe that was the reason many fashion insiders liked working with her. According to them, she wasn’t full of herself.

But she was proud of how she was able to carve a brand for herself in a cutthroat industry. She can do high fashion, she can do lingerie, she can do commercial and she can do editorial. She was one of the most versatile models around.

But the downside was, fame always came with a price.

In her case, it was the loss of privacy.

But on the upside, she was able to use her celebrity to support various civic initiatives to help people. For years, she had been channeling a hefty portion of her earnings to help fund orphanages, homes for abandoned kids and shelters for abused children in Brazil. In that sense, it was a good enough trade-off.

When she arrived at the airport, she was whisked off to a hotel to rest for a few hours. By afternoon, she was driven by one of the staff to the location of the photo shoot.

They had to wait for night time before the northern lights or
aurora borealis
showed up in the Alaskan sky.

The weather that day was considered mild for autumn, according to their local guide, but for someone who had lived in a temperate country for most of her early life, Jordana was susceptible to the cold.

Whoever said that modeling was a glamorous job should try it for a day, as she continued to brave the wintry Alaskan air. The air was so dry and icy that it was enough to form icicles on her perfectly-curled eyelashes and turn her lips blue beneath the red lipstick she was wearing.

Still, she didn’t bitch about it since the rest of the crew were also exposed to the frigid temperature. She did request for a cup of steaming hot coffee from the caterer to thaw her insides a bit.

It was almost midnight when the night time sky began to light up. Their entire group was amazed. The bright, multi-hued colors were extremely fast-changing—from bright yellow, green, red, purple and blue.

Jordana was entranced. Watching nature’s very own light show was worth the cold, the long trip, the long working hours…everything! It was simply spectacular. She had never seen a more beautiful sight.

As the stylist made last minute adjustments to the artful, cascading curls on her shoulders, she tried not to give in to shivers beneath the artificial fur coat wrapped around her—the only warm clothing she had for this shoot.

By the time Kirk Larsen signalled for the start of the shoot, Jordana gave her everything in front of the camera. She stepped into character that the photographer and stylist wanted: she was Aurora, goddess of dawn. She projected, she posed and stretched.

She had worked with Kirk in the past, so she already knew his signature style. For one thing, he liked his subject to be as still as possible while he moved around to capture the best angle on frame. With the wintry air all around, it wasn’t an easy task to stay immobile when she was trying her best not to break out in a case of shivers.

She gazed at the northern lights dancing above her. She started to meditate, using the lights as her focus. The last time she looked up the sky was at her now abandoned house. That was more than a month ago.

A sudden, overwhelming sadness descended upon her.

“Gorgeous! Gorgeous look on your face! Hold that pose—that is so sexy!” Kirk’s voice cut through her reverie.

She did as she was asked.

They think I look beautiful in my sadness
, she thought bleakly.

As she boarded the flight from Anchorage
to Perugia, Italy, Jordana felt really excited to see Mel and begin her time off work. When was the last time she ever went on a vacation? She can’t even remember. It was always work, work, work.

She was grateful for Mel’s help in securing an upgrade for her seat despite the short notice. There was only one stop-over, which lasted for an hour, so there was no run-ins with the press.

She did get recognized before her plane departed at the airport. She gamely signed about ten autographs, most of them Alaskan locals who were very sweet in asking her.

She tried calling Leandro before she boarded but he wasn’t picking up. He was probably a bit ticked that she went against his advice to stay put and ditch Mel’s wedding. He insisted Mel would understand, given the situation.

“I don’t see why you’re so against this. Mel’s our friend. Remember her Dad? He was the reason why we’re both here,” she reminded him as they were eating lunch at The Plaza’s renowned
The Rose Club
last week. “Besides, I’m off for Europe in a few weeks anyway. Going there a few weeks earlier than planned will not be a big difference.”

“Yes it will. If you leave as scheduled by the agency, you’ll be with the other models. There’s safety in numbers, that’s how animal packs survived in the wild for millions of years. You’re vulnerable alone, Dana. European paparazzi are a lot more vicious than their American counterparts. You going there by yourself is like asking for them to descend on you. Call Mel and beg off,” he persuaded.

“I can’t. Lee, this is Mel. I couldn’t…wouldn’t do that to her. And besides, since you’re not coming, someone has to represent one of us,” she protested while savoring the exceptionally sumptuous
crème fraiche
prepared by none other than the executive chef, whose niece was a fan of hers.

“Dana, don’t guilt-trip me. You know I can’t back out of the trip to Australia,” he protested. Lately he had been extremely busy. She hadn’t seen him for almost a month.

Leandro owned ImageHouse, a management firm that represented celebrities—sportsmen, models, musicians and actors. On the side, he dabbled in hedge fund management and real estate, particularly mid-income construction projects.

“I was held hostage by the paparazzi in a hotel for more than a month! I won’t let them get in the way of attending Mel’s wedding.”

“I am just worried. I have a bad feeling about the entire thing.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic, Lee. Besides, what could possibly happen in a wedding? Get attacked by the
mafiosi
? Give me a break!

In the end she did as she wanted. Leandro was peeved or so she believed. She couldn’t even get a hold of him even if she left dozens of messages in his voice mail or through his PA, Penny. He didn’t return her calls.

After trying to dial him for the tenth time, she gave up. The plane was taxiing along the runway, ready to take off.

Oh, well…

She switched off her mobile phone and spent the rest of the flight trying to squeeze in some quality, well-earned sleep.

PERUGIA

UMBRIA, ITALY

Lonzo drove all the way to the Castello Firenze
a day before the wedding. The
castello
was located in a remote part of Umbria, surrounded by rolling hills. The castle, made of brick and stone had been the seat of the Romolini family for centuries. At one time it was even converted into a church. In present times, the castle was beautifully restored to its full glory—a classic example of early medieval architecture.

But he didn’t go there to see the majestic sights. His purpose was to change Rocco’s mind before he committed the biggest mistake of his life. Binding himself to a woman was madness. He felt it was his duty to wake his bestfriend from his stupor.

As he drove inside the long, paved driveway leading to the castle, he immediately noted the wedding preparations. The event management was in high gear—a huge tent was erected in the huge castle gardens and people were busily arranging things for the festivities—florists, caterers, event helpers went about like clockwork. They took directions from the wedding coordinator, who were ordering everyone like a drill sergeant.

While parking his gleaming Ferrari in the parking space, he caught sight of Rocco’s mother,
Contessa
Maria Romolini waiting for him near the entrance of their grand home.